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Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Patagonia: Stumbling In

The land stretched out interminably in all directions,
three hundred sixty degrees of horizon.Looking carefully, the slight roundness of the ear was just visible, but
nothing else.No mountains, no trees, no
buildings--just scrub brush, dirt, and the straightest road I had ever
traveled.

The flat and vast estepa.

Routa Nacional 40 extended south from San Carlos de
Bariloche in northern Patagonia, cutting directly across the estepa.The land was flat and isolated, in many stretches occupied only by the
road, an occasional line of barbed wire fence, and perhaps a guanaco or
two.The sky was huge, clear and deeply
blue with all the variety of clouds arrayed at some point across the
vista.The seemingly barren landscape
did much to highlight the inconsequentiality of three gringos, their compact SUV, and their true place in the universe.

Asado!

We barreled onward at 100mph, driving always toward the
heat shimmer on the horizon.We had left
Bariloche that morning.There we
experienced Argentine hospitality.We
were greeted by Kevin’s friends with gourds of mate in the morning and an asado
that afternoon.The choripan, a simple sausage and bread sandwich, was indescribably
tasty, somewhere between a bratwurst and a spicy chorizo on excellent whole
wheat rolls.The steak was incredibly
satisfying as well, carefully prepared by our asadors Diego and Craig.

Our stay was somewhat short-lived, though, as we
purchased supplies, packed, and set out on the road once again.We now approached Bajo Caracoles, stopping
the car for photos as Cerro San Lorenzo crept into view on the horizon for the
first time.Overwhelmed with excitement,
we snapped photos before continuing south to the tiny hamlet of Caracoles.

We parked near the only gas pump in the small community
of not more than a dozen buildings.I
entered the hotel/convenience store/restaurant/gas station and queried the
owner behind the bar:

“¿Tiene
nafta aquí?”

“No, no tenemos
nafta,” he replied.

“¿En serio?¿No hay nafta?” I asked, somewhat surprised.

“No.Ayer tuvimos, pero hoy no hay mas.”

Our exchange was
rather unfortunate.The town had run out
of gas the preceding day.Without gas
here we would not have enough fuel to reach the trailhead and also get back out
of the park.We needed to find gas to
make it to the mountain.

I relayed the news
to Karsten as Kevin conversed a bit more, getting information on three other
possible places for gas, one of which was inside the park boundary.We decided to commit to entering the park and
looking for gas there.

As we approached La
Estancia Sierra Andia, our spirits plummeted.While it was possible the one faded white-washed building in the middle
of miles of estepa had gas, we were
skeptical.We approached the outpost
slowly and were greeted by an exceptionally amicable Argentine man.

Tito had a full
black beard and dark hair beneath his gray wool cap.His dark blue pants and off-white t-shirt
were dirtied from use, extending around his slight potbelly on an otherwise
stocky but powerful frame.He invited us
in and introduced us to his companions, a thirty-something Brazilian woman and
a wizened, weathered gaucho with clear blue eyes.

These three were
the caretakers for the estancia,
owned by a lawyer in Buenos Aires.They
confirmed that they did, in fact, have gas.As Tito went to fetch it, we were treated to mate and tortas fritas,
small fried cakes the size of a diner roll and similar to fluffy,
slightly-less-sweet homemade donuts.

I accompanied Tito
with the gas.He placed a large jug on
the roof of our car and siphoned the fuel by mouth into the tank.I helped him tidy up and we then escaped the
wind back into the building and the warmth of its wood burning stove.Our transaction complete, we stayed for mate, conversing a while about their
time in the park, and telling them of our plans for climbing Cerro San
Lorenzo.The general consensus was that
we were crazy, but they were friendly nonetheless.We watched a few minutes of “The Fast and the
Furious” together and finally departed an hour after our arrival.

We drove into the
park and the waning daylight.The full
moon clearly detailed the landscape.Plains lay behind, mountains ahead, and rabbits, guanacos, cows, horses,
and birds in between.I admired the
beauty with growing excitement as we drew ever-closer to the mountains.I marveled at the amazing people we had met
thus far.Their generosity was
overwhelming; I was humbled.